Patching Up Life
by TwitchPotter
Summary: Draco has a problem - two identical ones, to be specific. Galadriel has all the answers. Luna's plotting, Charlie is petting Patches in the corner, & Piper is working her butt off. Trinity is crying, Theodore is cursing, & Blaise is casually having a drink. And Patches? He's plotting to take over the world. If only he could get that stupid collar off... (M- Language) R&R!
1. Despicable Collars

"Jesus Christ - holy mother of - PATCHES, HOLD THE FUCK STILL!" The minuscule black cat froze at the sound of his caretaker shouting. He turned slowly, hoping that if he didn't make any sudden movements, she wouldn't see him. He watched in terror as the petite, brown haired girl who shared his house locked her eyes on him and began advancing.  
"I just need to put your collar back on," the woman said cautiously, holding the vile restraint out in his direction. The lady took his collar off once a week to brush his glorious fur, and if she thought that she was going to get him to put it back on, she was completely and totally drunk. He was a feline - a glorious creature worthy of praise from all other species. The mere thought of being confined by that band of terror was blasphemy. He was above that. He was -  
The girl landed on top of him, trapping him in her arms.  
...stuck. He was stuck.

Galadriel sighed as Patches stopped his struggle and held still, resigning himself to the fact that he had, yet again, lost the weekly battle of the collar. The buckle snapped shut with a satisfying click, and she nuzzled the miniature cat then let him run free. Standing up, she smoothed her shirt down and checked her hair in the hall mirror. One of these days, she would remember to put the collar back on BEFORE getting dressed - today was not that day.  
She ran her fingers through the silky dark brown strands, decided she looked decent enough, then went on a hunt for shoes - always a challenge, since her house had three stories and she had a tendency to chuck them wherever she was when she remembered to take them off. After a quick look in the laundry room, a speedy garage search, and a foray under the couch in the den, she finally recovered a pair of heeled cowboy boots - her favorite shoes by far, no matter how obnoxious they were in the middle of Maine.  
"Knock, knock, open up!" An airy British voice sounded from outside the front door.  
"Come on in, you know I don't lock it," she yelled as she filled Patches' water bowl.  
"That doesn't stop me from hoping every time that you've changed your mind about that," a deep voice responded, accompanied by the sound of the door closing.  
"Don't bother Galadriel, this is a safe neighborhood. We aren't all brimming with insanity and the manly desire to protect _everything_, Charles." The light feminine voice reprimanded.  
"Luna, if I'm brimming with insanity, it's because I'm married to you. That's enough to drive any bloke mad," joked Charlie, entering the dining room.  
"Hey Galadriel, not ready yet? Of course? As always?" The cheeky red headed man asked - Charles Weasley may have been 35, but he had the spirit and energy of a man ten years younger.  
"Shut up you twerp, I had to go to battle with Patches again. It's a time consuming event!"  
Charlie laughed boisterously, wrapping his arm around the waist of his wispy blonde wife, who was the epitome of small - except for the ever-growing baby bump, the one that had caused her to finally settle down.  
"Galadriel dear, your cat is essentially the size of a flip-flop, it can't be that difficult!" Luna remarked, her cloudy blue eyes looking around for the offender.  
"Hey. It's not his fault he's unnaturally tiny. He's the runt of a litter that was birthed by a runt. There was no hope whatsoever."  
"THERE'S the cheeky little devil! Patchy-poo, have you missed Auntie Luna while she was in England? Your momma certainly didn't - she never called me, not even once!" Luna exclaimed, rubbing the tiny creature behind the ears.  
"FIRST of all, you were gone for three days. Three freaking days, not all of eternity. And second, I would call if you got a phone, but when you tell me to toss some green shit in my fireplace and then stick my head in it? I'd prefer to just wait, thank you very much!" Galadriel shouted with her hand on her hip at the witch and wizard in front of her.  
"I was lonely."  
"You had Charlie."  
"He's useless!"  
"You married him!"  
"I could have died!"  
"Charlie wouldn't have let you."  
"Maybe I died while he took a nap!"  
"Please. He would annoy the shit out of you until you came back to life."  
"But you love me!"  
"IRRELEVANT. IT'S A FIREPLACE WITH A FIRE IN IT."  
Silence filled the room. Charlie knelt on the floor, he and Patches watching the girls go back and forth with interest, but no surprise. This was a typical conversation between the best friends.  
"Fine. Don't attend my death. See if I care." His wife sniffed, picking her purse up off the floor.  
"You won't care, you'll be dead, you idiot." Galadriel dead panned, tossing a treat at Patches and grabbing her own bag.  
"IRRELEVANT!" Luna shouted as they headed towards the door, followed by Charlie, who was rolling his eyes.  
"Nope, can't use that, my line!" Galadriel replied smugly, locking the door behind them as the three of them headed towards her pickup truck.  
"Damn. So not fair."  
"C'est la vie. Anyway, where exactly are we going tonight?" Galadriel asked, unlocking the silver vehicle and climbing into the driver's seat, with Luna claiming shotgun and Charlie stuck in the back by himself.  
"The Golden Plate!" Luna chuckled.  
"Wha-Golden Plate? Who the fuck thought of that?" Galadriel snorted. "And why hasn't someone taken their recreational drugs away from them yet?"  
"Valid question," Charlie added in from the back. "Luna, you did tell her you invited some other people, right?"  
His question was met with silence. Luna slowly looked over at Galadriel. "Oh. Thought I had missed something..."  
"You muff," Galadriel grumbled. "Are you trying to set me up again?"  
"No! I actually invited someone you like! Well, you've not met him yet, but when I showed you a picture of him you said he was stupidly attractive. So that counts, right?" Luna asked weakly.  
Galadriel sighed with resignation. "Who?"  
"Theodore Nott -"  
"Oh my god, is he the ridiculously good-looking one? The one I said I would gladly make children with?" Galadriel exclaimed as she turned into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse, also known as their apparating point.  
"And beautiful babies they would be," Luna answered with pride.  
"Well never mind, I like you again!"

Galadriel hated apparating. Wizards and witches seemed to think they were so nifty, being able to pop from one place to another, but as far as she was concerned, she would stick to Ronan, her handy dandy truck. Apparating was uncomfortable, confusing, and just plain weird. Worst of all, she always seemed to take a tumble after landing -regardless of the fact that she was holding onto either Luna or Charlie upon arrival. Charlie held his arm out for her, and she took a deep breath.  
Taking his arm, she muttered, "Theodore Nott better be really fucking -"  
The next thing she knew, she was tumbling through the universe - falling, and falling, and... Oh shit, she was actually falling -  
She closed her eyes, expecting to hit the ground, only to stop right before. The warmth of a body holding hers made her blink, staring up into a pair of deep brown eyes, framed by square black glasses. "-cute." She finished her pre-apparation sentence dazedly.  
"Hello," the man said in a smooth English accent. "I'm Theodore Nott, and I do hope that adjective was directed at me."


	2. Why Everyone Wants To Be Theo

Theodore Nott was many things. He was the son of a dead Death Eater, a graduate from Hogwarts, Slytherin House, and the owner of Nott Manor. He was the classmate of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, Auror partner of Mr. Harry Potter himself, and had an odd but strong friendship with Loony Lovegood – who was now a Weasley. He was a regular guest at Sunday brunch at the Burrow – though he never went more than twice a month, not wanting to seem too "Gryffindor". He was an advocate for S.P.E.W., a creator of multiple war charities, and worked along Hermione Granger to restore the wizarding world. He was attractive, he was charming, and he was a brilliant wizard. Oh yes, Theodore Nott was many things… but most importantly, he was single.

And that was simply unacceptable.

Draco Malfoy had been the alleged "Slytherin Prince" – which was true, to an extent. Draco was indeed the epitome of Slytherin. Draco was intelligent, talented, ambitious, cunning, and he was louder about it than anyone else. And most of all, due to his upbringing, he was incredibly racist against muggles and muggleborns. No wonder the rest of the school had always seen Malfoy as the king.

But that was okay with Theo – it simply made his life easier. Theodore Nott was one of the least talked-about Slytherins, and for good reason too… He had flirted, snogged, and slept through a majority of the female population of Hogwarts. Every girl knew his name – they just didn't talk about him, because they had no idea that every other girl was on the same page. He was, essentially, Hogwarts's best kept secret. And he liked it that way. His father may have been a Death Eater, but he hadn't been a very good one. Theo had never been close to him, having been raised mostly by his house elf Brissy and multiple nannies. Theodore Nott Senior had been a part of Voldemort's following for the inane reason that all of his friends were doing it – which convinced Theo at a young age that it was stupid to go along with something because everyone else supported it. That's why Theodore Nott was an original. He didn't care about blood status, he cared about how hot a girl was. He didn't support the Death Eaters, and he didn't support Potter. He was mostly apathetic about all of the hot topics that had the everlasting attention of the rest of the wizarding world, and it worked for him. He made it through the war without ever attending a Death Eater's meeting, or a Dumbledore's Army dueling practice. He blocked out everything, focused on classes and girls, and did pretty well for himself.

When the final battle came, he hadn't sat idle. He was impartial, but he wasn't stupid. Comparing the way the school had been run his seventh year, under Death Eaters, to his first six years, he found it to be completely lacking. Call him crazy, but he didn't get off on torturing 12 year old muggleborns. So when his father had alerted him of the upcoming fight, he had quickly apparated to Hogwarts and started fighting, for Potter's side. Many a redheaded Weasley had questioned his motives, but he had simply pointed out that they really needed the help, so why argue about it?

And that was how Theodore Nott, of all things, became a good person. Hadn't been in the plan, but he adapted quickly, changing his life to fit with new ideals and the desire to be decent. He started the Life After charity – a program created with the goal of assisting the war-torn soldiers who had been forced to grow up far too fast. Fighting for your life had a tendency to leave one with scars – some visible, some not. Life After worked to heal those scars and make the transition into life after the war a bit easier, helping witches and wizards everywhere find jobs, homes, and dreams again after a time of suffering. He had also co-founded (with Potter) the For Every Child program, which found orphaned children a loving home. Tom Riddle had been proof of what could happen if a child was raised without love – and he and Harry wanted to prevent that from ever happening again. Then Granger had attacked him with fervor, pointing out that his precious Brissy had been beaten by his father many a time, which could result in psychological damage, which could lead to her sinking into a deep depression and eventually taking her own life. Not likely to happen, but Theo gave Hermione a shitload of money for the cause anyway, because he liked Brissy and it shut Granger up.

He was alright with being decent. It was even kind of fun. Who would have thought that Theodore Nott, son of a death eater, would be graduating second in his Auror class and fighting evil alongside the Boy-Who-Lived? But he soon discovered the downside to the good life – he couldn't have meaningless sex anymore. Which was practically heartbreaking. He had never actually dated anyone, after all – he had just systematically used every female around him that he wasn't related to through obscure pureblood relatives. And then, out of the blue, had suddenly gone and developed feelings. And now, his life was lonely. He hadn't yet met a girl who fit all of his criteria – he was a picky man, and he wasn't about to start a relationship with someone who wasn't the Perfect Girl. So that led to lonely nights and cold showers.

But not anymore! Luna, who (although she was a pregnant married woman) was the perfect wingman, had promised to deliver the perfect woman, if he met them at some trendy new restaurant in the heart of Wizard London. He had arrived at The Golden Plate ten minutes early, to provide enough time to get the lay of the land and be casually seated at the table of his choice. He had spent those ten minutes figuring out that Luna was obviously drunk, because this restaurant was weird as shit. He feared that was a bad omen for his "perfect woman" – Luna had called this the perfect restaurant, but just about everything was covered in gold finish, including the plates. The waiters wore all gold, the fish swimming about in the gold-tinted aquarium water were gold, and the menus were gold, with gold paper and gold writing.

"Someone must have a serious Gryffindor fetish," Theo muttered to himself, then realized that he had forgotten his watch and had no idea what time it was. Pushing his glasses up on his nose subconsciously, he got up and went over to the maître de to ask. He rolled his eyes at himself when he discovered it was seven pm, the exact time of Luna's arrival, and by being out of his seat he had just wasted the last ten minutes of his life preparing to look casual. He rushed towards the table, hoping that Luna wasn't there yet with the "Perfect Woman" – _although she probably had ten fingers, purple hair, and_ – out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone falling over, and instinctually reached out and caught them.

_-gorgeous brown eyes?_ He finished thinking distractedly, realizing that this was the girl Luna had brought for him.

"Cute," she muttered, staring at him, her long lashes brushing her pale cheeks every time she blinked. Theo mentally congratulated Luna – she was doing pretty well so far!

"Hello, I'm Theodore Nott," he introduced himself as suavely as possible, "And I do hope that adjective was directed at me." With that, he set her on her feet again, pushed his glasses up, and stared at Ms. Perfect intensely.

"I'm Galadriel Andrews," she replied, blushing but confident. "And I'll let you know at the end of the night!"

Luna giggled and stepped out from behind Galadriel. "Hello Theodore! Glad you could make it!" she hugged him tightly.

"I love you," Theo whispered in her ear. "I told you so," she whispered back, then released him so he could shake Charlie's hand. "One of these days, she might actually land on her feet!" Luna joked at Galadriel, who promptly stuck her tongue out in reply.

"No rush – I'm always willing to catch you," he told the pretty girl with a wink. She blushed again slightly, then laughed. "Aren't you charming! I guess it's a good thing I'm your date tonight!"

"I'm a lucky man," he responded with a grin. Holding his arm out for her, he led the group to the table he had chosen – in the far back corner, away from prying eyes and curious newspaper reporters. On the way there, he subtly checked out his date. Galadriel was an odd name, but kind of exotic, which worked for him. Her looks weren't exotic – she had the pale skin, high cheekbones, and dark brown hair of a British woman. But her voice… she had a charming American accent that made him want to listen to her say dirty things in bed. Not that he was picturing her in his bed or anything. Just a casual observation. Her hand in his elbow looked elegant and dainty against his charcoal dress shirt, and she walked with the air of a woman who was ridiculously hot and had absolutely no clue.

"Holy fucknuggets, there is way too much gold in here," she exclaimed quietly to herself. Theo chuckled – she was definitely going to be fun!

"Luna, why in the hell are we here?" Charlie Weasley asked his wife, staring awestruck at the golden floors and tables.

"I would think it would suit you, Gryffindor," Theo joked, laughing as Charlie rolled his eyes.

"There is such a thing as too much house pride. This is one example, you are another," the redhead responded with a grin.

"I thought you all might like it," Luna pouted as they finally reached their table and slid into their seats – both men holding the chair out for their respective women. Galadriel snorted and Charlie shook his head with resignation. Luna's eyes fired up. "Don't you love it, Charles?" she asked pointedly, digging her fingernails into his arm.

"Ow-ow-OW YES IT'S GREAT!" he shouted with fake enthusiasm, attracting the attention of a few surrounding patrons. A raised eyebrow from Theo quickly inspired them to look away, and Luna patted her husband's arm sweetly, seemingly content.

"Charlie if you ever knock her up again I will personally see to it that the act causing said pregnancy is never again possible for you to perform, got it?" Galadriel smirked across the table.

Luna pouted some more. "Don't threaten to take my sex away. Otherwise I'll have to start having it with you, and then Charlie will be lonely and sad and feel left out again." Galadriel conceded, then started perusing her obnoxiously gold menu. Theodore swallowed violently and tried to remove the image of Luna and Galadriel making out from his brain.

"Welcome to life with these two, mate," Charlie said with a knowing smile. "It's violent, it's concerning, it's hard to get a word in edgewise, but it sure as hell is interesting!"

_Theodore Nott was one adorable creature, _Galadriel mused as she munched on her breadstick. The bread was so delicious that they had asked for more continuously throughout the meal, and were still eating it, even after finishing their food. It wasn't gold (thankfully), and tasted like perfection. Speaking of perfection… Theo was pretty damn close. He had taken her lack of magic in stride, inquiring about her childhood as a muggle and what it was like in her world. He never tired of hearing her nannying stories, was fascinated by her major, and had requested to meet and befriend the Legendary Midget Cat, Patches. He hadn't been pushy, like other guys she had been set up with. There was no mention of going back to his place, no gropes under the table, nothing. He was casual, charming, and delightful to talk to. They had flirted back and forth all evening, keeping it light but being clear that they were interested in each other. _He was just so damn pretty! _She thought, laughing internally. It was true though – he was 6'2", with a chiseled jaw, lithe walk, and the best hair she had ever seen. She found herself staring at it, wondering if it was as soft as she wanted it to be.

"What?" Theo asked with amusement. Galadriel came back to earth to realize that not only was staring obsessively at someone's hair _not_ a socially acceptable thing, the owner of said hair had paid her bill!

"Damn, that's not fair, I wasn't paying attention! I was distracted!" Galadriel protested as Theo took her hand and helped her out of her chair.

"Not that I mind paying the bill – I would have done it no matter what you said – but I must admit I am curious as to what was so distracting that you forgot to have the long-awaited check debate?" he asked with a smile, referring to their conversation at the beginning of the evening about who was paying for dinner.

"Nothing, don't worry about it, nothing at all," she stated quickly, her cheeks going pink as she ducked her head. Theo stopped her right before the apparating point and lifted her chin. "Tell me, or I will harass you endlessly."

"Oh dear, I feel tired, Charles, you really ought to apparate me home," Luna sighed dramatically.

"Alright love, let Galadriel say goodbye to –"

"NOW CHARLES APPARATE NOW!" his wife growled, stepping on his foot and making wild eyebrow gestures. She grabbed his arm then they disappeared, leaving Galadriel behind with her mouth gaping.

"What the fuck! That twatmuffin, she just _left_ me! I'm going to _kill_ her! She's so incredibly dead, it's not even –"

She stopped talking as the rush of apparation hit her.

"-funny!" She finished, finding herself being embraced by Theodore, standing in the abandoned warehouse once more.

"Sorry, I figured the tighter I held on, the less likely you were to fall flat on your face," the handsome man joked, taking a small step away to give her space. Galadriel rubbed her forehead. "People really need to stop apparating me mid-sentence," she muttered, still cursing at Luna in her head.

"I'll have to remember that for next time," Theo answered, suddenly growing serious as he realized his implication.

"Next time? Will there… be a next time?" Galadriel asked, hesitantly. They had had a wonderful time tonight, but she had no clue if he wanted to pursue anything. After all, she was a muggle, and maybe that was just too weird for –

Her train of thought stopped as a pair of lips pressed against hers. After five seconds of shock, she realized that her eyes were still open. Two seconds after that, his eyes opened too. They pulled away.

"Damn. I really wanted to date you. But, was it just me, or…" Theo trailed off, obviously uncomfortable admitting the obvious.

"We have no chemistry, at all." Galadriel finished, disappointed. "Fuck, I liked you. Your hair looks soft. Our children would have been adorable… or… something less creepy than that…"

Theodore laughed loudly. "What the hell, you were supposed to be The One! Come on universe, this is not a fair thing!" he shouted at the sky, shaking his finger in the air with a mock scowl on his face.

"Well, we can always just be friends, and flirt our asses off," Galadriel suggested with a smile.

"Sounds good to me!" Theo accepted, slinging his arm around her shoulder and walking her towards her truck.

"And Theo? You will find her. She's out there, somewhere, looking for you as we speak," Galadriel said, her face serious and caring.

Theo nodded. "Same for you. You're a catch – you just aren't MY catch, evidently."

She grinned, lightening the mood. "Well, you know what they say… Plenty of fish in the sea! Now, do you want to come meet my midget cat and assist us in plotting Luna's demise?"

Theo laughed as they reached her massive vehicle. "Lead the way, my fair lady!"

They drove off into the night, laughing and chatting, celebrating the start of a beautiful friendship.

In a bedroom close by, a girl cried herself to sleep.

In a room far away, a man sat on the edge of his daughter's bed, stared at the ceiling, and prayed for a patch of light in his dark, dark life.


	3. Be Careful What You Wish For

The blinding lights flash endlessly for what seems like hours as a red-haired sex bomb strikes pose after pose. She loves the camera, and the camera loves her. She's completely comfortable with her body, as seen by the tight black corset and shorts she's wearing. She has no shame, no fear, and no thoughts.

At least, that's how it seems.

In reality, Trinity was shy, insecure, and hated being touched. She disliked dressing up and distrusted anyone near her except her personal assistant. However, reality wasn't the world she lived in most of the time.

Trinity Vex was the face and name of VEX, the biggest and boldest fashion company to hit the earth. They sold everything – from baby clothes to men's boxers to women's jewelry, they were the new "it" thing. That's what Dunkin, her manager, had told her anyway.

Trinity had started out life innocent and sweet – then at 5 months, she was cast as a Gerber baby, and her future would never be the same. From then on, it was photo shoot after modeling gig after commercial, all because she was unnaturally pretty. She had a face that portrayed the innocence of a virgin on her wedding night, and an attitude that showed she was about to get what she wanted. But that was all a fake.

When she was 11 or 12, it hadn't been that bad. She had gotten a room of games to play with, friends to talk to, and the choice of what clothes and poses she wanted. But somewhere along the line, Dunkin Werner had taken over as her manager, and that had all changed. Suddenly it was grueling hours, tight clothes, and rude photographers who barked orders at her as if she were a thing, not 23 year old girl.

Some people would have shouted back, thrown temper tantrums, or even quit. But those people had a voice, and Trinity had never really learned how to use hers. So she stayed quiet, choosing to shut off the "real" her during work hours and pull out the sexy goddess that people paid to see. She pretended it didn't matter when a random guy took her bra off for her and put another one on. She pretended it didn't matter when Dunkin glared at her every time she so much as looked at the food table. She pretended it didn't matter when she saw a picture of her and Colby Remier plastered on the front of this month's People, being read voraciously by a random assistant.

"Take Five, people," Dunkin shouted in irritation, as he always did when Piper continuously harassed him about Trinity needing a break. He would have fired her months ago, but she was the only person who kept Trinity sane, and crazy supermodels weren't really as much fun as one would think.

Trinity stood as if she were shell-shocked, still slightly blinded from the flashes.

"Come on Trinny, let's get you some tea, okay? Arnold Palmer, just like you like?" Piper gently directed her to a corner of the room, knowing from experience that if Dunkin saw Trinity eating or drinking he would be pissier than usual – and that was saying something.

"Yeah, okay," Trinity said, every bit the lost puppy. She spent so much time being "on" that when the cameras stopped, she hardly knew who she was. Her hair was red, she like Arnold Palmer, and Piper was nice. That was about all she could tell you though.

Piper watched her boss sit cross-legged on the floor and drink quickly like a thirsty child, holding the can tightly with both hands. It killed her to see such an amazing woman be like this. But sadly, this was the real Trinity Vex. She had been behind the cameras for so long that she had never learned how to be a real person. She relied on Piper like a lost child on the clerk at the department store. Piper's heart broke for her every day, and yet she could do nothing. This was the life that Trinity had chosen – or rather, that her parents had chosen for her. And until Trinity got the balls to speak up and get out of the hole she was sinking into, Piper had no power. So she spent every day organizing Trinity's life and trying to make it as painless as possible. So many people thought that modeling was such an easy job, but they were dead wrong. Models were expected to be pushed, pulled, poked and prodded for hours on end with no break, no complaints, and often no food, as the industry frowned upon big eaters. And Trinity's job was the worst of them all – she was the face of an entire line, didn't ever speak up for herself, and had a manager whose head was so far up his ass it was going to start coming out of his –

"Piper!" Trinity exclaimed, looking troubled. "What's wrong?"

Piper snapped back to the present. "Nothing dear. Here, let me help you up, Dunkin is going to call any minute – "

"BREAK'S OVER PEOPLE, BACK TO WORK, LETS GET MOVING!" The slimy man shouted, leering over at Piper and daring her to say something about the shortened break. Piper bit her lip and helped Trinity to her feet.

Trinity walked back to the center of the floor and stood with her shoulders hunched. Today was a bad day. She hadn't had a bad day in a few weeks, so it was past due. But she hated having bad days. She hated the pity that rivaled disgust in the eyes of those around her, the eye rolling of Dunkin the Idiot, and the feeling of not being good enough that had been drilled into her by her parents. But sometimes, bad days were inevitable.

"Okay Trinity, we're going to do a few more shots with this outfit, then switch to the lingerie bit, yeah?" the photographer directed with a gentle English accent. Dennis Creevey was one of the nicest photographers she had worked with, always speaking to her kindly and trying not to push her, while also avoiding getting fired. He made her smile a little, and gave her hope that not all photographers were grabby jackasses who –

Trinity shut her mind off. She couldn't go there. Not again.

She looked around quickly for Piper, her eyes welling up. She saw Dennis's lips moving, but couldn't make out the words. Dunkin rolled his eyes and threw his water bottle in the trash can with disgust.

"We're done for the day everybody. Trinity is exhausted. We will see you Tuesday," Piper snapped as she picked up her purse with Trinity's bag, then grabbed her boss's hand and left the building before Dunkin could respond.

"Thanks, I just… froze up again…" Trinity said helplessly once they got out into the fresh air.

"It's understandable – you work all day in a place where they not only under-appreciate you, but treat you like an animal. It makes sense to freeze up sometimes. I couldn't do your job for even a day… being pushed around like that…" Piper shook her head

"And I couldn't do your job for a day – taking care of a half-crazy supermodel with emotional baggage that rivals a fat elephant in weight!" She joked with a small smile.

"Hush, you're no work at all. I'm practically getting paid for nothing," Piper responded sarcastically, but with kindness in her eyes as she and Trinity got in the black Mercedes C-Class Coupe. Piper started the car and turned in the seat towards Trinity.

"Alright, that's it. Enough moping about for you. You need to get out, do something fun – "

"And end up with rumors and lies splashed across the tabloids? I think not," Trinity shot her down quickly, and with good reason.

"Fine, then…. Come to girl's weekend! It's super fun! We used to go somewhere, but Luna's husband has gone slightly nutty since she got pregnant, so this month we are just spending the weekend at Galadriel's house, drinking and being stupid while eating an excessive amount of chocolate. No paparazzi, I promise!"

A few seconds went by as Trinity desperately tried to think of an excuse so she could sit at home alone all weekend. "I can't… I umm… I…. Have a thing!"

"Nice try genius, I'm your personal assistant. I'm paid to know about all of your 'things', whether you like it or not, and you have none this weekend. Case closed. You are coming to girl's weekend, and you are going to stop be sad and lonely and crying all the time. No arguments – now let's go pack!" Turning forward, Piper put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, humming quietly to herself as Trinity looked out the window.

Trinity didn't want to go, but she knew her fate was inevitable. She just didn't want to inflict her misery upon a bunch of unsuspecting chipper females. She wasn't stupid – she knew that she was damaged goods. The whole world saw her as the Perfect Girl, but the truth was, she was about as far from perfect as you could get.

That night, Theodore Nott had a dream about a red-haired goddess he saw on a muggle billboard, and wished on every star that this perfect woman would one day be his.


	4. A Night To Remember

Hey everybody! Twitch here... PLEASE READ THIS! I have many views and visitors on this story, but only one review... ONE. I'm not going to stop writing or anything - I'm not that type of person. But these two stories are my babies. I'm really proud that I've actually written something - I've been trying to do that for six years now, and I finally managed to write not just one, but two stories. I would love to finish them, and I would love to know that someone cares about what I'm writing. So please review. It's not nice. It makes my soul sad. Even if it's just a short little note. Then I know that somebody likes what I'm doing. Thanks, my feels are done now, read on! Not the best chapter, mind you, but it's decent, and covers the important things! Oh, and I don't own HP. Obviously. If I did, Patches the Midget Cat would have killed Voldemort.

With Love, Twitch

* * *

Patches crouched under the coffee table in fear. There was currently a tornado ripping through the house, and his only hope for salvation was to stay hidden. Why?

It was "Girl's Weekend."

Or at least, that's what his female was muttering as she rushed back and forth from room to room, cleaning counters, straightening pillows, and checking the fridge time and time again.

Galadriel was a laid-back owner, but once a month she went positively insane.

"PATCHES! WHERE IN THE HELL DID YOU GO?!" she yelled, searching for him frantically.

Patches gulped. He was in big trouble. There was nowhere else to hide! Nowhere to escape – unless…

Patches took off at light speed, sprinting for the last safe place he knew of – behind the fridge. He would be safe! He would escape Hurricane Galadriel with his dignity in tact! He was the master of everything, and he would win! He was…

The fridge was suddenly too close. His tiny white paws skidded on the tile as he tried to stop, to no avail. He closed his eyes and scrunched up as much as he could, and slid directly under the fridge. He looked around, seeing darkness, with one small line of light showing the exit. He confidently lifted his paw to strut his way out – and was swiftly jerked back onto his bottom. His collar was hooked on something underneath the fridge, and he was, as always, stuck.

Galadriel squatted down, pressing her cheek against the kitchen floor and shining a flashlight under the fridge. "Patches?"

A disgruntled meow sounded from the left of the dark space, and she readjusted her flashlight, only to see that her brilliant midget cat had, once again, gotten himself stuck under the fridge. She knew from experience that she couldn't reach him, and stood up with a sigh.

"Patches, you really need to stop trying to hide behind the fridge. You always end up _underneath_ it."

Her response was a cacophony of meowing, accompanied by some of the odd sounds that Patches would make when he got too excited or upset.

"Hush up, I'm calling Charlie, just hold still!" She snapped at the fridge, grabbing her phone to make the call, then realizing that it was 5:29 and he would be dropping Luna off in one minute.

"You can wait until he gets here. Serves you right, you idiot," she muttered, doing one last check of the house. The spacious dining room table was now home to seven different kinds of chips, five types of cookies, two brownie platters and six flavors of soda. The living room floor was covered in blankets and pillows, and a stack of chick flicks was nearby so that nobody would have to move much to put the next movie in. The rest of the house was spotless, having been vacuumed and swiffered within an inch of its life. And she had hung a clever little sign on the front door, just to annoy Charlie…

"Galadriel, putting a paper on your door that says 'Walk right in, it's open' is NOT a good way to scare off burglars, thieves, and other rapscallions!"

Luna snorted as she kicked her shoes off. "Charles, did you really just say _rapscallions_? _Really_?" She ran into Galadriel's arms, hugging her ferociously. "It's been so long since I've seen you!" she stressed, her voice muffled in Galadriel's shoulder.

"I know right? It's been like, six days! That's eternity for us!" The brunette joked, returning Luna's hug with just as much fervor.

"You two," Charlie muttered, rolling his eyes. "Where's Patches? I need a man to ward off your feminine feelings."

"Under the fridge."

"Again? He seriously needs to stop doing that!"

Galadriel sighed. "We've had words. Hopefully he will listen this time."

"Talking to cats is never a sign of good mental health," Piper said, peeking around the front door that Luna had left half-open.

"PIPER!" both girls shouted overdramatically, rushing towards the tiny girl and dragging her into the house for a hug.

"Hang on – guys – hello – GET OFF YOU MORONS!" She shouted, showing the feisty side that shocked the hell out of everyone who didn't know her well.

She straightened her blazer as she was released. "I brought a friend. She needed a girl's night, so…"

And with that, the famous, the one and only Trinity Vex stepped shyly into the house.

* * *

Draco woke up to the sound of ice clinking in a glass.

"Blaise, be less alcoholic," he muttered, sitting up on the couch and pushing his white-blond hair out of his sleepy eyes.

"Be less depressing," his best friend fired back with a sneer, stalking over to the armchair by the fireplace.

"Fuck you. What time is it?" Draco mumbled – the last thing he remembered from the night before was dropping his daughters off at his mother's house and then getting shit-faced drunk –

"The GIRLS! SHIT!" He jumped up from the dark leather couch and promptly fell over.

"B? Why in the hell are my pants around my ankles?"

The Italian snorted. "I can't help you with that. I CAN tell you that Narcissa floo'ed – she's keeping the girls an extra week."

"A week? Seriously? That's-" Draco stopped abruptly, not wanting to say that it was great that his mother was keeping his two daughters even longer, but thinking it anyway.

One month ago, his ex-girlfriend Pansy Parkinson had shown up on his front door-step with two little girls beside her. Hours later, Draco was reeling – the girls were HIS. Hollie Jane and Daisy Guinevere Malfoy were his four and a half year old twin daughters. He hadn't seen Pansy since about four years ago, when he had gone to visit her back in England and realized that there was no hope for her. Pansy Parkinson had once been a sweet girl – a girl who had been smart, funny, and naïve to the dangers of being a Pureblooded female at the beginning of a war. That innocence had been crushed the summer before second year – turning sweet, eleven-year-old Pansy into a fucked up twelve year old girl who had been raped seven times in one night. That summer evening had been the end of Pansy's life – she had simply been holding on since then, wishing for the end but never being able to make that choice. Eleven year old Pansy had been in there somewhere, lying in wait for the big decisions in life – like not committing suicide, not getting an abortion when discovering she was pregnant, and getting her daughters into the care of their father. But after all of those internal battles since second year, eleven-year old Pansy couldn't shout loud enough to keep herself from swallowing all of those pills on the very day that she had dropped her children off with Draco, explained what she had done in the last five years, and promised to come back in a few hours.

Which left twenty-six year old Draco Malfoy with two daughters who had never met him, and the job of explaining why Mommy was never coming back.

It quickly became clear to Blaise, Draco and Narcissa that Draco had no clue how to be a father – probably due to the fact that his father hadn't known how to be one either. Narcissa had taken to having the girls over on the weekends, giving Draco a break and a chance to wrap his head around how quickly his life had changed.

Just one month ago, one tiny little month, he had been perfectly content to lie about in misery all day long, occasionally conversing with his house-mate Blaise Zabini, or having a meal or two with his mother, who lived down the street in a small cottage. He and Blaise would drink themselves into oblivion on a regular basis, and then pass out – or at least Draco did. He wasn't sure what happened to Blaise, who never seemed to be able to get drunk. And that routine was one he had slipped right back in to the second his mother had left with the girls. And he would be able to stay in that alcohol-induced fog for a whole week –

Draco's thoughts cut off as a door slammed loudly.

"Come on, you idiots, open a curtain or something. The sun's outside, and she misses you. Probably because you haven't seen each other since the war ended NINE FUCKING YEARS AGO," came the voice of Theodore Nott, old schoolmate of Blaise and Draco, occasional visitor to the house, and usually way too loud for its half-drunk inhabitants.

"How the hell did you get in?" Blaise grumbled, refilling his glass yet again.

"You DO have house-elves, you know. Which you probably forgot about because you two just sit in sadness, despair, and alcohol all fucking day long."

The rakish brunette strode across the dark sitting room and yanked aside one of the heavy, ornate drapes covering the windows.

"Cazzo cagna," Blaise muttered, as Draco fell down onto the couch and covered his pounding head with a pillow.

"Oh stop it, you know you love me. Now. You two have been moping about for far too long. Nine years is an extremely lengthy amount of time to be angsty and depressed – "

"Sorry we can't all be Theodore Nott, 'BFF's' with the Boy Who Lived," Blaise snarked, downing his glass of scotch and refilling it with whiskey.

"No you can't, but you _can_ be real actual people who interact with society and do things with their lives," Theo responded lightly, holding his hand out. Blaise's glass shot across the room and Theo downed it casually.

"Sorry that I have _children_ – "

"Who you have pushed off onto your mother yet again. Invalid excuse. Try again later!"

And Draco suddenly found himself lying dazed on the floor, having been shoved violently off the sofa.

"We are going out for boy's night – no, MEN'S night – in exactly one hour. Draco, fix your hair, it looks like you got attacked by a rabbit in your sleep. And put some fucking pants on, you freak. And Blaise? Listerine please. No girl is going to want to make out with a mouth that undoubtedly reeks of alcoholism. I'll be back in fifty-nine minutes, you fuckers!" Theo apparated out.

"Fuck," both boys groaned in despair.

Silence fell for a few minutes.

"He's right, you know. If you're going to keep shipping your daughters off to Cissa's every weekend, you really ought to at least _do_ something with your spare time."

"I don't ship them off, my mother comes and takes them, all the while thinking in her head about how terrible a parent I am. It's not my fault no one ever taught me how to be a good father, I didn't exactly have the best education in that department," Draco remarked with bitterness.

"Maybe you should find a better teacher," Blaise said as he stalked out of the room to get ready, taking a bottle of port with him.

His words rang in Draco's head, flicking a switch and turning on a light bulb. Blaise was right – instead of sending his girls off to his mother's, he needed to learn how to take care of them himself. He hadn't had a good example of parenthood, but that just meant he needed to find someone else to show him how to do it. Pansy was dead – he was all those girls had. They were his daughters, and he would do better by them than his parents had done by him. Theo was right too – the war had ended over nine years ago, and Draco had been hiding from the world since then. It was time to leave the safety of his living room, the darkness of the manor, and the comfort of having only Blaise for company – a raging alcoholic who couldn't sleep for the nightmares.

He jumped off the couch with more energy than he had felt in eons, and ran to the study to compose a letter to Luna Weasley, his one other contact with the outside world. She would know what to do. She would know someone, some kind soul, who would take him under their wing and show him how to be a good dad.

Upstairs, a bottle shattered against a wall. No matter how much he drank, he would never be able to forget their faces – the faces of the innocent he had killed. He would never be able to sleep without jerking awake with tears streaming down his face. He would never be able to feel again. After all, nobody could love a beast like him.

* * *

Please Review! Pretty Pretty Please! Also, feel free to tell me anything you would like to see - I can write it!

~Twitch~


End file.
